


Next Time, Let's Reschedule

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hotel Sex, M/M, Mutter Era, Rimming, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 13:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Following a press conference, Paul and Schneider collapse into bed together and nap. They're expected to get up in a couple hours and join the other four at a diner for lunch. They get distracted and run a little late.





	Next Time, Let's Reschedule

**Author's Note:**

> I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry why do I write these things
> 
> This whole scenario was inspired by an almost-hour long conference I downloaded off a Russian website where Paul and Schneider goof around a lot together. That one [Mutter era photoshoot](https://78.media.tumblr.com/90bda9a564475ce171eefeb42d3c87b2/tumblr_pd459wN3zI1wffjmmo1_1280.jpg) was on that same day.
> 
> I've noticed Schneider and Paul are very affectionate throughout the Mutter era, so I thought it would be cute if they were actually in a relationship. Fictionally, of course, as always.

Signs of exhaustion had been apparent during the press conference at Hotel Nikko. Not only due to having to rise at an early hour, but due to the heat of Mexico City. And because he drank himself silly last night with Till and Flake, resulting in only a lethargic hangover and a lack of enthusiasm. It sucked the life out of Paul, repressing his typical levels of energy and tomfoolery. He only messed around a couple times during the conference, made a few snickering comments to Schneider, [played with his green-tinted sunglasses](https://78.media.tumblr.com/7b9a4085f88a2bdc635415e6e54f5384/tumblr_pd4540vhqS1rvajymo2_1280.png) once, drank about a thousand gallons of water from the complimentary water bottles provided by the hotel.

Even if they had been seated the entire time save for the picture posing at the start, Paul is left with even less energy than he had before.

“Well, you were obviously about to fall asleep at the table,” Schneider makes a teasing comment as they reenter Paul’s hotel room. Paul is already peeling off his black, long-sleeved top as he steps into the room, towards the bed that is now freshly done up thanks to the housekeeping service. His necklace thumps down against his collarbone once he strips off his shirt, tossing it onto the mound of clothing which made up his suitcase.

Paul provided no response but a slight hum of acknowledgment. He splats into the bed, spreads out completely, still wearing his boots and black, baggy pants. Schneider smiles to himself as he goes about removing his jean jacket and shades.

“[Resting your head on my shoulder](https://78.media.tumblr.com/bbfc3753a0f582c0299691faf71cc1ed/tumblr_pd4540vhqS1rvajymo1_1280.png) at the press conference was bold, Paul. You’re always so careless about it in public,” he says with no force in his voice (though it is something they have argued about before) as he sets the articles of clothing on the opposite bed, before pulling off his shoes and socks. Paul remains silent, face buried within the fresh, plush pillows. Stripping off his camo tank top, baring muscle and skin slick with sweat, Schneider then approaches Paul’s laying form.

With the slight smile lingering on his lips, he reaches out to gently hike up one baggy pantleg to unzip Paul’s sleek boot. Paul grumbles into the pillows. He lays motionless as Schneider works off one boot, followed by the other. He would rather not remove Paul’s socks for him; they’re damp with his sweat. So instead, he just crawls onto the bed, over Paul. Paul makes another slight noise, but doesn’t move to look at him. Schneider straddles his hips, long, muscular legs folded and tucked up close to Paul’s sides. He curls both broad hands around the small of Paul’s exposed back. He feels it when he shudders.

Silently, Schneider begins to massage his back. He first strokes his calloused hands up and down over Paul’s freckled skin, lightly, slowly. A feather-like back and forth, a trailing of his fingers to evoke more sensitivity to his touch. Paul is already humming lowly with pleasure into the pillows. Schneider then begins to work his fingertips into his warm flesh, a walking motion, down along the planes of his back. He walks them along the dips of his ribcage, across the ribbon of muscle that runs along the bone. He rubs his fingers down along the curve of his back, turns his hands to begin gently digging and circling his thumbs into the tense muscle that parallels his spine. Paul groans lowly with pleasure.

“I see how it is,” he slurs into the pillows, "Attacking me at my most vulnerable moment, Schneider."

He unravels his arms from around the pillows to slide them down the sheets, resting them limply by his sides. Schneider hums. Paul’s lazy fingers find his knees; he squeezes them in his hands. Schneider continues working silently, with the muscle in his arms flexing from firmly working his hands up along Paul’s back. He curls his hands around his shoulders, fingers fanning out across his collarbone, and begins kneading his thumbs into the muscle of his shoulder blades. Paul groans.

“I’m melting,” he mumbles thickly, and then noisily slurps escaping drool back into his mouth. Schneider laughs. He rakes his nails gently down his back, earning a violent, involuntary shudder. He lovingly runs his hands up over his back, and then down his sides. He speaks quietly.

“Shut up and go to sleep. We can get up in two hours, maybe. The others aren’t expecting us until lunch.”

“Mmm, okay. Come lay down next to me.”

Smiling to himself, Schneider places his hands on the bed and leans in to kiss Paul on the shoulder, and then the back of his head. Before obliging his request, he gets up off of him and turns to the nightstand to grab the alarm clock. He sets an alarm for two hours from now and then sets the clock back down. He moves to lay beside him with a jostling of the bed and a shifting of the made covers.

Paul immediately turns onto his side and looks at him sleepily, his red locks tangled and sticking up in places, his muscular arms folded loosely in front of his equally muscular chest. Schneider reaches out to cup the side of his head with a hand, his thumb running down over his cheek. Paul’s eyes are lidded, trained on him, before they roll shut, a lazy smile on his pretty lips. His youthful face is a pleasure to admire while he lays there, motionless, with that soft smile dissipating into something passive.

Retracting his touch, Schneider curls a big hand around Paul’s, resting limply between them. Paul’s eyes weakly flutter open, searches Schneider’s handsome face, before they roll shut again. Schneider shifts closer to him, rests his head upon one of the downy pillows, close enough he can count each individual eyelash resting against Paul’s upper cheeks.

He’s so cute.

Feeling awfully tired himself, Schneider closes his eyes and is immediately drawn towards the embrace of sleep. He hadn’t realized how exhausted and sore he’s been.

 

The nap lasts shorter than it should have; Schneider gets nearly an hour of sleep before there is soft, careful knocking against the hotel door. He jolts to consciousness, eyes snapping open and head lifting to look towards the door. Shit. He glances back towards Paul, sees him gazing at him with sleepy, reddened eyes. Schneider shushes him with a press of a finger to his lips and then leans in to kiss him on the forehead. He pulls back to search his face.

“I’ll take care of it. Stay in bed,” he whispers. Paul nods and gladly closes his eyes again. Schneider notices the covers had been pulled over them sloppily. Maybe Paul was getting cold. The air conditioning is pumping out cold air pretty hard right now, blasting the room with a chill. Paul bundles up in the covers and buries his face in the pillows, his red tuft of hair sticking out like a beacon. Schneider smiles tiredly at the image. Another three firmer knocks to the door has Schneider sliding out of bed and stumbling his way across the room, squinting with a frown.

He tugs it open widely, without really thinking. Richard is standing there.

“Oh, so _now_ you drag yourself out of bed,” Schneider comments flatly, searching his tired, hungover face with dry amusement. Richard shrugs, reaches up to adjust his stupid shades that he’s wearing _indoors._

“I figured all six of us didn’t have to be there. I needed the sleep.”

Schneider wants to backhand him down the hallway. _Paul_ was the one who needed the sleep.

“Anyways,” Richard begins, “We decided on the diner down the street. The one with the sign that has the cup of coffee. Paul commented on it earlier.”

Schneider lets out a breath, nods, and glances back towards the bed at the mention of the man. Paul is still buried within the crisp white covers, his red hair peeking out. Schneider’s irritation dissolves—his lips twitch with a smile, though it fades when he glances back towards Richard.

“Yeah, I know the place.”

“Okay. Where is Paul, anyways?” Richard asks, reaching up to slide his shades over his head to settle among red-tipped spikes of hair.

“Sleeping.”

Richard blinks, peers past Schneider’s shoulder to spot said man on the bed, nearly completely hidden from view. Schneider resists the urge to close the door to maintain Paul’s (and their) privacy. Doing so would only come with implications—more than there already is, anyways. Schneider’s nearly-naked state in combination with his sleep-heavy voice implies enough. Richard meets Schneider’s tired eyes and then a slight smile curls at his lips.

He nods, understanding.

“Sorry for interrupting. Just be there at twelve, got it?”

“Oh, how could have I ever been competent without your reminder? Yes, we will be there.”

Richard rolls his eyes, tries to peek past Schneider’s naked torso again, but it irritates Schneider and has him saying flatly before he begins to shut the door, “See you, Richard. Don’t come knocking at twelve—we’ll meet you _there._ ”

“Got it,” Richard says, his smile becoming a bit too damn smug and knowing.

Richard lifts a hand in a gesture of goodbye just as Schneider clicks the door shut in his face.

Turning back to the bed, Schneider pads up to it and sinks onto it gratefully. He slides under the covers beside Paul and melts into the pillows. A hand curls around his bicep, pulling. Turning his head, Schneider looks over to see Paul gazing at him sleepily from his cocoon, brow furrowed and eyes lidded.

“Come here,” he demands, voice thick from sleep. A faint smile grows on Schneider’s lips. He turns onto his side, shifts over towards the other man. Paul wiggles closer and presses himself into Schneider’s chest. Schneider draws his arms around him—Paul rests his head on his bicep, nuzzles into him. Schneider feels his exhales against his collarbone. A smile lingers on his lips. He feels content and warm like this now, holding him. Paul drapes his arm limply around his waist. Schneider feels his fingers curl up and tickle across the warm skin of his back.

“Sleep,” Schneider insists, stroking his thumb against Paul’s shoulder blade.

“Can’t like this,” Paul mumbles.

“Then why did you want to?” Schneider huffs.

“If you haven’t figured out by now that I like to cuddle, then I should re-evaluate our future together,” Paul mumbles, his speaking exhales brushing against Schneider’s skin.

Schneider snorts. Then he moves to roll them over, pushing Paul onto his back and unraveling his arms from around him. Paul looks up at him with wider eyes and a slight, tired grin. Propped up on an elbow, Schneider gazes down at him with a pursed smile and amused eyes. Paul’s grin broadens, bringing out the apples of his cheeks, his gray/blue/brown/whatever (Schneider still hasn’t figured it out, but Paul has claimed they are blue) eyes twinkling with a fondness. One really can’t help but think he’s cute. Schneider would rather not “emasculate” him in that way by thinking so, but it’s unavoidable.

“Well, are you going to kiss me or not?” Paul demands, squinting at him now with a jut of his bottom lip. Schneider hums and lifts his head to peer thoughtfully at the wall. Then he meets Paul’s narrowed eyes and says plainly, “I’m debating.”

“You have two seconds before I knee you in the dick and crawl out to take a shower.”

That has Schneider laughing with a broad grin, revealing his dimples. Paul rubs his lips together to repress his own smile. He reaches up to rest one slender hand upon Schneider’s chest, slides it across warm skin to curl gently around his throat, thumb stroking up over pale skin. Paul’s eyes are following his hand, watching himself run the pad of his thumb along Schneider’s sharp jawline. He glances up to meet Schneider’s heated gaze just as the other man begins to lean in.

A grin curls across Paul’s lips before Schneider crushes their mouths together, effectively stifling it. Paul giggles against his lips and runs his hand up from his neck to cup the side of his head, thumb resting over his ear, fingers fanning across the shaven skin on the back of his head. Shifting into a position more comfortable above Paul, Schneider kisses him with enthusiasm through firm purses of his lips. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth. Paul returns it with a little more force, a little more demand. Bites him harder, kisses him deeper, licks into his mouth to taste his teeth and his saliva.

They stop when Paul decides they do; he curls a hand around the front of Schneider’s throat and gently pushes until Schneider withdraws and looks down at him with hooded eyes and red, kissed lips. Paul turns his head, glances towards the alarm clock. Meanwhile, Schneider admires the flush to his cheeks, the shiny wetness of saliva on his chin and lips, the messiness of his vibrant red hair.

“We got twenty minutes,” Paul says, looking back up towards Schneider, his hand sliding up to cup the underside of his jaw, “If we’re fast, we can fuck and then get ready before we have to meet up with the others.”

Schneider blinks, surprised. He lets out a slight laugh, his silly, involuntarily giggle that often embarrasses him (though this time, it doesn’t), and then moves to lay down beside Paul, resting on his side. He leans in close to him, searches his confident, boyish face with one broad hand raising to touch at his bitten lips.

“And that’s what you want to do.”

Paul bites at his fingers—Schneider pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. Paul speaks despite it, saying flatly with his sure eyes searching Schneider’s, “Yes. But a shower first.”

“You know, when I hold your lip like this, I’m pretty much your oversized lip ring.”

He emphasizes this by tightening his hold around his bottom lip, fingertips aligning through the soft, wet flesh of Paul’s inner lip. Paul’s wide eyes become lidded with his lack of amusement. He looks at Schneider blankly. Schneider smiles at him innocently, until it grows into a shit-eating grin that has Paul smacking his hand away. Schneider laughs again and then moves to get up off the bed. He grabs Paul’s ankles along the way and begins to drag him off the bed effortlessly. Paul kicks his legs and blurts past a shocked laugh, grabbing at the covers, “ _Schneider!”_

His ass meets the floor with a satisfying, heavy thud. The covers fall upon him and bathe him in white until Schneider begins to drag him towards the bathroom door, pulling him out from underneath the blankets—he’s cracking up and nearly falling over from laughing so hard. Paul looks disgruntled and equally disheveled with wild hair and a grimacing face, cheeks flushed.

“You’re giving me rug burn!” Paul yells, kicking roughly at his hands, digging his fingers into the carpet to give himself some leverage. Schneider relents at that; he lets him go, grinning. Paul kicks him soundly in the thigh—Schneider stumbles back into the doorframe of the bathroom door, laughing again. Paul scrambles up onto his feet and then smacks Schneider, hard, on the bare bicep for good measure. Schneider hisses and clutches at himself, wounded. He stopped laughing, but he’s still grinning. Paul paces into the bathroom past him, flips on the light, pointedly _not_ laughing. At least he doesn’t look pissed—there’s a pouting expression on his face.

Schneider winds his arms around him before he could start the shower, pulls him back against himself and begins covering his neck and cheek with firm, quick kisses. Paul sighs and states calmly, “Maybe if you kiss the _excruciating, severe_ rug burn on my back, I’ll consider forgiving you _then. Schneider._ ”

Humming, Schneider curls his big hands around Paul’s wrists, holds his arms still as he ducks his head down to kiss gently at his shoulder blades. Paul is silent as Schneider covers as much of his reddened skin as he can reach. (The kissing hurts a little bit, but Paul likes it.)

“Alright, you’re forgiven,” Paul says, twisting his wrists out of his hold, “Let’s get in the shower already.”

 

Soon, they’re standing together under the steaming spray of hot water, rivulets rushing down long limbs and building amongst their feet. Paul’s hair is flattened to his scalp, a darker shade of red now. Schneider watches the way the shower water drips off his eyelashes and button nose as Paul cleans his body with the cheap bar of hotel soap, his eyes downcast. He’s really quite beautiful, in a strange way. Schneider watches him, enamored, his hands frozen in their task to wash his own body.

If he notices, Paul doesn’t say anything. Though, he does startle the other man by rubbing the soap between his hands, until they’re covered thickly in soap suds, before he begins running them over Schneider’s abs, across his sides, up to his chest. Schneider swallows thickly, watches silently as his boyfriend (the term still makes him cringe, but what else should he call him? His partner? Paul would laugh at him) rubs his soapy hands over his torso. Paul peeks up at him with a slight smile as he gathers more suds in his hands, earning a glance from embarrassed blue eyes.

“I’ll handle it, don’t worry,” Paul teases, earning a flustered scowl from Schneider. Paul grins and then reaches down to boldly curl one soapy hand around Schneider’s stiffening shaft, gently stroking it twice, his other hand cupping and squeezing his balls. Schneider’s gaze drops to witness this, his brow furrowing and mouth falling open. Paul treats it like any other task to be done; he thoroughly cleans him, lets go once satisfied with the result and then grabs the soap again.

Once demanded to, Schneider willingly turns away and lets him wash down his back, his hips—the firm grab to his ass has him jolting, which in turn earns him amused snickering from the other man. By then, he’s getting overwhelmed and impatient. He turns, snatches the soap from Paul’s hands and says, “Alright, my turn, you brat.”

Paul smirks, rinses his hands off under the hot water with a challenging raise of a brow. He lets it happen when Schneider grabs his bicep, turns him around. Paul tilts his head back to let the warm water rush down over his face and through his hair. Meanwhile, Schneider rubs the soap between his hands and then sets it aside. He immediately winds his arms around Paul, cups his chest with both broad hands. Paul lowers his head again to watch silently. Schneider squeezes him there firmly, begins to rake his nails down his front.

The soap is immediately washed away before he could stroke it over him, but whatever. Paul already cleaned himself.

Continuing down, Schneider strokes both hands over his belly, tracing the valleys of his abs with blunt fingertips. Paul is silent in his arms. Schneider grabs his hips in both hands, then ventures further to squeeze his nice, slender thighs in his fingers. Paul’s hands curl into loose fists by his sides, Schneider notices. He also notices, peering past his shoulder, that he’s getting hard. He must really be in the mood if it’s that easy.

Thumbs pressed together and hands outstretched, Schneider runs them down over Paul’s belly, down to the V of his hips. Paul grabbing the soap off the shelf and pushing it against Schneider’s hand has him pausing. Grabbing it, he rubs it between his palms, and then Paul takes it again. Schneider reaches down to gently curl his calloused fingers around Paul’s stiffening length. He pulls at it three times, feels Paul tense up in his arms. He remains silent as Schneider dips his fingers lower to curl them under his balls. He holds him intimately like that, cradles him in his big hand, soapy thumb stroking down over his shaft.

He doesn’t tease him for long. He lets him go, unwinds his arms from around him. Paul moves to face him, but Schneider reaches up to grab his shoulder firmly, stilling him again. Paul doesn’t say anything, just glances back at him—Schneider doesn’t look at him, focuses on grabbing the soap again. Once more, he gathers soap suds in his hands and then steps closer to Paul, until their naked bodies meet. He winds one muscular arm around his midsection, broad hand cupping intimately around his slender side. He holds him still as he brings his other soapy hand down to slide his fingers down between Paul’s asscheeks.

Paul makes a gasping sound. He jerks a hand out to place it against the shower shelf. Schneider is silent, watching himself rub his slick, soapy fingers against the most intimate place of Paul—his own belly flushes with a heat, his cock stiffening against Paul’s hip. He glances up to see Paul with his head turned, hiding his face. Schneider watches him as he begins to gently push his forefinger into him. The muscles in Paul’s back ripples, clenching with tension. Paul sucks in a breath, and then says lowly, “On the bed.”

Schneider leans in to kiss him on the freckled shoulder and then removes his finger. He squeezes his ass firmly in his hand and then with the other, he reaches past him to turn off the shower.

 

They spend a minute toweling off together in the hotel room—Schneider eyes up Paul the entire time, naturally—before their damp towels join at the foot of the bed and the previously removed covers are thrown back onto the bed. Paul ends up on his back, grabbed and pushed onto the bed by the other man. Eyes glimmering with amusement, Paul grins up at him, his wet hair immediately soaking the sheets. Schneider crawls over him, their legs tangling, and grabs his wrists to pin his hands to the bed. They’re not totally dry; their flesh is wet, pressed together warmly.

“You’re being bold,” Paul muses, eyes becoming lidded and fond, a teasing grin on his face, “Did the rushing blood down there grow you some balls?”

Schneider makes a face. Paul’s grin widens, revealing his crow’s feet and strengthening his laugh lines.

“I’m sure you could easily recount the many times I’ve pinned you to the bed and fucked you silly,” Schneider remarks, “And I could do it again now.”

“So do it!” Paul snarls back, his boyish face lit up with gleeful challenge, clenching his hands into fists from where they’re kept pinned. Schneider searches his face for a moment, arching a brow. He purses his lips thoughtfully, shifts closer to the smaller man, bears more of his weight into him. Paul’s grinning face weakens from the pain of the pressure on his wrists.

“No,” Schneider replies calmly with a smile, “I think this time I’ll make love to you.”

Paul pauses, looks at him with surprise in his eyes, his smile disappearing. Schneider grins, amused by the abrupt change in his behavior. He’s really just teasing him, at this point. He leans in kisses him on the temple, ducks his head in to whisper into his ear, “Touch you and fuck you so gently you’ll get impatient like you tend to do, but I’ll refuse to give you want you want. I’ll keep you pinned and take as long as I want, as slow as I want.”

Schneider angles his head to catch his earlobe between his teeth, his silver earring cool against his tongue. He pulls back, letting his earlobe slide between his clenched teeth. Paul jerks and makes a choked noise. When Schneider pulls back to study his expression, Paul looks startled, flustered, and ultimately intrigued. Schneider smiles—he’s adorable.

“I—Okay,” Paul stammers, which has Schneider cracking a laugh. He grins down at him, squeezes his fingers around his thin wrists, saying teasingly, “Oh, so you do want that, huh? Unravel you slowly, one stitch at a time?”

The concept of needing to be somewhere on time has left the room, and it may as well have left the universe, because caring is hardly a concern at the moment. Paul lets out a breath, his lips curling into a shy, yet excited, smile. He bites his lip and then says quietly, eyes searching in Schneider’s, “Or, I could just wrestle you down and fuck _you_ into the bed. Make you come twice like last time.”

“Try it,” Schneider challenges, confidently. Paul rubs his lips together and then gives him a simple smile.

“Just kiss me already,” he states. Schneider giggles again and muses smugly with lidded eyes, “I seemed to have made the witty Paul speechless.”

Paul is noticeably becoming impatient. He looks up at the other man with thinly pressed lips and unamused eyes.

“You don’t have my legs pinned, and my thigh is between yours. You know what that means? I could destroy you and your newly-grown—”

Schneider decides that’s enough and leans in with a slight grin to kiss him. Paul’s words become muffled and reduced to a low hum underneath Schneider’s mouth. Paul nips at his bottom lip in retaliation for interrupting him. Then he melts, and their kiss becomes deep and long. Their lips overlap together messily, an open-mouthed kiss that swiftly steals their ability to breathe. Paul is making slight noises into it, his thigh moving between Schneider’s, his body wiggling as a sign of restless arousal, his hands twisting from where they’re kept pinned.

Their lips mash together mindlessly, wet and hot and rough, until Schneider breaks away to mouth sloppily down his jaw and throat—Paul throws his head to the side to eagerly grant more room. Schneider bites along the shell of his ear, nips his earlobe so hard between his teeth that Paul jerks and makes a noise in his throat. He keeps rolling his body up against Schneider’s, greedy for physical contact.

Schneider decides intimate alignment is a good start. Releasing Paul’s wrists, he lays down on top of him, tangling their legs with their fronts meeting. He has his face turned into Paul’s neck, propped up on an elbow with one hand stroking up over his bare side. Paul is shaking.

He keeps one arm up against the pillows, the other lowering for him to stroke one calloused hand up over the shifting muscle of Schneider’s broad back. They’re pressed intimately together, sharing a heavy warmth that drapes across them in a blanket of contentment. For a moment they just lay there, Schneider with his lips pressed lightly to Paul’s freckled shoulder, Paul’s hand sliding up across the back of his neck and head to curl his fingers into his mohawk.

“I like touching your body,” Paul whispers, said so casually and easily as he brings his other hand down to stroke it over Schneider’s muscular bicep. Schneider hums and then says quietly, “Stay still for me.”

Paul nods. Schneider rises up onto a hand, gazes down at him—Paul returns the stare with alert gray eyes, the slightest smile on his cute lips. His hair is messy and damp, leaving a big, circular spot of wetness on the pillow underneath his head. Schneider leans in to kiss him sweetly on the lips, which the other man returns with a firm purse of his mouth, and then Schneider scoots back on the bed. He kisses him on the muscular belly, both hands stroking up over Paul’s lovely thighs, squeezing, before ducking his head down to take his cock into his mouth. He’s not hard, but he’s getting there.

Humming with pleasure, Paul reaches down to curl his fingers into Schneider’s mohawk. Schneider feels more comfortable doing this, knowing they’ve just come out of the shower. Not that he’s necessarily uncomfortable with giving Paul oral when they haven’t, he enjoys it either way, but Schneider just generally likes cleanliness more. He’s bolder, more confident because of it.

Sucking in his cheeks accentuates his sharp cheekbones as he begins to bob his head. Paul is silent as he watches Schneider suck him off, his eyes lidded and downcast, mouth slightly open, fingers raking through his short mohawk. Schneider glances up to meet his gaze with dilated icy blue eyes every time he withdraws, and then closes them again when he lowers his head. Paul is panting by then, his thighs clenching and relaxing under Schneider’s big hands.

Now he’s fully hard, and noticeably sensitive. Schneider silently enjoys the greater heat of his cock in his mouth, the weight of it, the way he tastes now that he’s dripping with pre-cum. Paul is grunting under his breath, his hand cupped around the back of Schneider’s head. Schneider’s jaw hurts so he takes a momentary breather to withdraw and look up at Paul with intense blue eyes, his lips wet and swollen from the work he’s done. Paul bites his lip, watching him. Schneider ducks his head to lick at his inner thighs—Paul jerks his legs further apart and it has Schneider smiling secretly.

Schneider lets his tongue roam across the strong tendon where thigh meets his groin, before he angles his head to sweep it under and around his smooth balls. Paul grunts and his entire body coils with tension. A gush of heat bursts in Schneider’s belly. He loves making him respond.

Eyes closed due to his unavoidable bashfulness, Schneider sucks his balls into his mouth and rolls his tongue around them.

“Shit!” Paul hisses, followed by a breathless laugh. He watches with wide eyes, hand clutching demandingly around Schneider’s head, keeping his face buried between his thighs. Schneider lets his balls slip out of his mouth and then raises back up on an elbow. He peeks up at Paul—his boyish face is tinted red, his mouth open and eyes wide. Schneider gives him a slight smile and then looks down to admire his flushed cock.

Curling two fingers around the base, he angles it up. It looks like it’s begging for more. Flushed a deep red, a bead of pre-cum is swelling up at the slit of the head. Schneider watches silently as it begins to roll down the wrinkled skin of the frenulum. Paul is shuddering silently, hands in fists by his hips.

“Come on already!” Paul growls, arching his hips up. Schneider leans out of the way before he could rub the head up against his cheek. Schneider clicks his tongue and looks up at the other man with a slight smile.

“I’m getting there,” he muses, and begins pulling slowly at his flushed length with three fingers. Paul grits his teeth, drops his head back against the pillow. Schneider curls his broad hand around the entirety of his cock and begins to tug at it with quick pumps, his pre-cum working well enough for a lubricant. Paul digs his elbows into the bed, hands in fists, and uses the leverage to arch his hips up into it, his head lifting again to watch with clenched teeth. Schneider leans in to lick at the head whenever it pops up past his fingers, his sharp gaze trained on Paul’s weakened face.

“Come on,” Paul pants, his eyes pleading, “Let me fuck your mouth. Come on.”

Schneider ignores him. With his other hand, he flattens it against Paul’s hips, shoves them back down against the bed to still his thrusting. Paul huffs. He waits, his entire body thrumming with impatience. Schneider leans in slowly, sticks out his tongue, meets Paul’s frustrated gaze as he delicately runs it up against the sensitive nerves of the frenulum under the head of his cock. Paul’s mouth falls open, and then he shuts it with a click of his teeth, his jaw clenching. Schneider continues forcefully keeping him pinned with one hand. He watches him as he runs the flat width of his tongue up over the swell of the head, lapping up smeared pre-cum. Paul’s nostrils flare, his chest deflating as he lets out a long exhale through his nose.

Sliding his calloused hand from his hips, Schneider instead places it on the bed and then angles himself so he can slowly suck the entirety of his angry red cock into his mouth. Paul moans. Schneider anticipated it—Paul begins to shakily roll his hips up into his face. Panting and huffing, Paul moans and gasps as he pumps his hips, his hand outstretching to curl around the back of his head again. Schneider furrows his brow, tries not to choke. He gently rests his hand around Paul’s side, follows the rocking of his body.

“Just like that,” Paul moans, watches with an agape mouth and a knit brow. He drops his head back against the wet pillow, gasps out hoarsely, “Fuck, Schneider!”

Schneider lets him thrust deeply into his mouth for a moment longer, his face reddening and lips slickened with saliva, until he chokes. Brow furrowing, he sputters around his length, spit dripping onto Paul’s groin. That’s when Paul drops his hips back down onto the bed, stroking at Schneider’s hair apologetically, with concern. Schneider pulls off, panting heavily with saliva on his chin and cheek. He swallows thickly, looks up at Paul with glassy eyes.

“Let me eat out your ass,” Schneider says, his voice hoarse from the rough treatment his throat received. Paul blinks widely, and then nods with a knowing grin. Schneider is always embarrassed about it, and he is even _now,_ demanding for such a thing—but it turns him on. Paul slips out from underneath him, turns onto his front. Schneider shifts closer, reaches out to squeeze painfully hard handfuls of his ass—Paul jerks and then huffs a laugh.

Embarrassed, but also eager, Schneider spreads him open and swallows thickly, admiring his (rather cute) asshole with a hot face. He knows Paul is watching over his shoulder, but he’d rather not look into his eyes right now. He leans in, pausing for a moment from sheer bashfulness, before he opens his mouth to bite Paul’s asscheek between his teeth. Paul jolts and then bursts out a laugh, followed by a cheekily murmured, “That’s not how you eat ass, Schneider.”

“Shut up, I know you like it,” Schneider growls, still not meeting his eyes. He knows he has a stupid grin on his face.

Finally, he stops stalling and leans in to drag the width of his tongue up from Paul’s taint to his asshole. Paul clenches up, gasps. Schneider already feels a burn of intense arousal in his belly. He has his hands around Paul’s hips, thumbs hooked around his ass to keep him open. Now emboldened, he peeks up to watch Paul’s head duck forward, hanging between raised shoulders, effectively hiding his face from his gaze. Schneider alternates between slow drags and quick licks of his hot tongue against the wrinkled skin—Paul twitches and makes some sort of gasping moan.

Schneider’s cock is hard and heavy against the sheets, aching with his intense lust. He loves eating him out. Paul is gasping into the pillows now, sagging forward on his elbows. Schneider watches the back of his head as he curls his tongue into him, his thumbs digging into his flesh. His jaw begins to hurt from the strain, but he is far from stopping.

Paul bites his tongue and releases a muffled moan, pushing his ass back against his face. Schneider loves the enthusiasm. He wraps his big hands around his hips, squeezes him there and pulls him closer. Paul makes a high-pitched noise of shock when Schneider reaches around to firmly grasp his dripping cock. He begins pulling at it slowly while curling his tongue repeatedly into his slick hole. Paul’s entire body winds up with tension.

“Oh, fuck!” he cries, his voice cracking. He swallows thickly, regains some composure to groan roughly, “God, Schneider, that feels amazing.”

Schneider’s jaw aches like a bitch so he stops momentarily if only to lean back and slide one hand in to begin rubbing his thumb against his hole. Paul jerks and moans openly. Schneider is amazed, watching himself touch him. He’s redder, wetter, looser now. His body easily accepts it when Schneider pushes his thumb into him. Schneider is unbelievably hard, his face flushed and weak with lust, his chest heaving. He admires Paul’s perfect body as he thrusts his thumb in him, awed by how hot he is, how hot this is. He removes his thumb, leans in to boldly swipe his tongue up against his sensitive hole. Paul whines, rolls his ass back into his face.

Continuing to stroke at his dripping cock with a tight fist, Schneider tongue-fucks him with firm pushes and thrusts and curls of his tongue. Paul is groaning and shaking by then—he twists his torso to look back at him with a dazed expression, reaching out to grab a tight fistful of his mohawk. Schneider squeezes and gropes at his ass, and the back of his muscular thighs. Then he leans away, Paul’s grasp slipping from his hair, and bites a mouthful of his ass—Paul jerks, makes a slight noise. Schneider lets the ache in his jaw fade before leaning back in to resume eating him out. Paul hums with pleasure, watches him with lidded eyes and an open mouth.

“Oh, yes,” he whispers, curling his fingers into Schneider’s mohawk again, earning a glance from heated blue eyes, “Fuck me already. I know that got you going. Come on. I’ll ride you. I’ll ride you.”

Schneider doesn’t argue. He gets up, waits for Paul to hurriedly move, and then he rests back against the pillows. Paul is already climbing on top of him, reaching over to dig the lube out from under some cleverly placed papers in the nightstand drawer. He pops it open, squeezes too much out into a palm, sets the bottle of lube on the nightstand, which takes leaning over Schneider’s head. Schneider rather likes the view Paul provides in doing so—his abs are right in his face. He reaches up to stroke his hands over his sides, walks his fingers up his ribcage, a slight smile growing on his face.

Paul fidgets from the tickling, but doesn’t respond. He just kneels over Schneider’s hips, reaches back to force two wet fingers into himself. He props a hand against Schneider’s chest; Schneider continues stroking at his body with both hands. Paul has his eyes trained on Schneider’s, his brow knit and lips in a line. His flushed cock stands out eagerly from his body, already oozing a line of pre-cum onto his boyfriend’s belly.

Impatient as always, Paul doesn’t spend long fingering himself. He snatches the bottle of lube, squeezes out another dollop, tosses it aside carelessly to reach back and grip Schneider’s painfully hard length. Schneider watches him, his broad hands settling on Paul’s thighs, squeezing around them. The sensation of Paul’s tight, firm hand stroking warm lube across his heavy cock has Schneider tensing up with anticipation, his eyes burning with lust, trained up on Paul’s focused expression. Paul adjusts himself first; he tucks his feet under Schneider’s thighs, resting on his knees. He keeps one hand on his stomach for balance as he rises up to rub his cock against himself.

“Kept thinking about this during the conference,” Paul admits quietly, spoken breathlessly. He bites his bottom lip between his teeth, grinning. Schneider watches him silently, an amused smile pulling at his mouth. He strokes his broad hands up from his muscular thighs to curl around his hips.

“Is that why you were so touchy under the table?” Schneider teases. Paul laughs and strokes his hand up over his belly—his silver rings are cool against his skin. Schneider feels Paul’s legs clench around his thighs when he begins to sit down, letting his cock slowly slide into him. Paul has a concentrated look on his face, his lips in a line with his brow knit. He keeps a fist around the base of his shaft, keeps it in place as he eases down on it, until his ass meets Schneider’s hips. Schneider squeezes his smaller hips and then roams his hands up over his sides and across his chest.

Watching himself, Schneider takes notice of how big his hands seem to be on his body. Paul has a very box-shaped torso, broad with straight lines, but somehow, he still looks small under his touch. He’s thin, toned. Soft in places, firm in others. He seems so fragile sometimes, but really, he’s the toughest of them all, aside from perhaps Till. But now, this image of Paul on top of him like this, thinner and smaller (though Paul is _not small,_ he is just smaller in _comparison),_ sitting on his lap, legs curled around his thighs—it’s flustering and endearing at the same time. Schneider just stares, enamored, until Paul begins to move.

He curls both slender hands around Schneider’s sides and leans into him as he begins to raise and lower his hips, his gray eyes hooded and trained down on his face. Schneider glances up to meet his gaze, his mouth falling open. Paul moves with an assured gracefulness, rather than a quick desperation for pleasure. He watches Schneider unwaveringly, fingers pressing tightly into his skin around his sides. Schneider admires him silently, glancing across his messy crimson hair, his boyish face flushed and weakened with lust. The muscle along his legs and arms flexing and clenching as he moves his body. The flush to the skin of his chest, his neck, his belly.

Paul’s hand ventures up to curl around his throat—Schneider’s icy blue eyes meet his. Paul doesn’t squeeze. He simply keeps his head pinned as he rides him with gradual rolls of his hips, his eyes wider and mischievous, watching Schneider with excitement. He grins slightly, digging his thumb into the flesh of his throat as he moves on top of him. In retaliation, Schneider pinches both of his nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, begins to tug harder and harder until Paul laughs and jerks away from him.

“Ow!” Paul complains, cupping both of his hands around his chest protectively. He stills, sitting on Christoph’s lap.

“You’re being boring,” Schneider says, “Get on your stomach.”

“You’re the one that’s just laying there, you dickhead!” Paul argues with a pissy expression, abruptly defensive, “Sex has _two_ people involved, at the very least, so that means you have to contribute!”

Schneider looks at him with a lack of patience.

“I was joking. You don’t have to get all offended—you were sexy, Paul, I just want to fuck you into the bed now.”

Paul pauses, and then huffs. He smiles faintly, before rolling his eyes and teasing lowly as he gets off his lap, “Oh, I thought you were going to ‘make love to me’, Mr. Big Balls.”

“Yeah, that was the plan, but that will have to wait for another time.”

“I guess I’m just that irresistible,” Paul muses as he lowers himself down onto the bed, the covers dampened with shower water, earning a sharp, dry laugh from Schneider. Schneider grabs the lube from where it was tossed among the sheets as he says, “More like I’m getting impatient.”

“With me?” Paul asks, turning to look at him with a knit brow. Schneider doesn’t glance up towards him as he spreads his ass open and squeezes some of the lube out for it to drip down from his tailbone. Schneider hesitates to answer. Paul waits for a full three seconds before he knocks his leg against Schneider’s side and demands, “Impatient with _what?”_

Schneider reaches out to set the bottle of lube on the nightstand while rubbing his fingers down between Paul’s asscheeks to spread the lube, before hooking them into his ass. Paul jerks, gasps. Schneider blushes. He doesn’t meet Paul’s gaze as he mumbles, “You don’t make a lot of noise when you ride me.”

Paul laughs, which is exactly what Schneider didn’t want.

“Oh, you think it’s hot when I moan, honey?”

“Shut up,” Schneider snaps, genuinely embarrassed now, his face on fire. He glances up to look at Paul with annoyed eyes. Paul is biting his lip, obviously repressing his laughter. His lips spread into a grin, his eyebrows raised. Schneider spanks him, hard, across the ass and it has Paul lurching with a sharp laugh.

“Alright, alright, sorry!” Paul cries, giggling uncontrollably as he hides his face in the pillows, “We don’t have to reenact Sonne, Schneider.”

“Maybe we ought to,” Schneider remarks, smiling faintly himself now. He grabs a handful of his ass, squeezes hard enough the flesh bulges between his fingers. Paul is silent, shifts slightly with his hips twisting. He’s still hiding his face in the pillows. Schneider knows he likes it when he grabs him. It shuts him up. He pushes his fingers deeply into him a few more times, curls them down towards his belly, earning shudders from the other man. Then he pulls his fingers out, gets up on top of him, letting their legs slide together. Paul hums from underneath him.

Schneider curls both hands around the small of his back, keeping him pinned. He glances down between their bodies to watch himself slide the length of his slick cock between Paul’s asscheeks. Paul groans, shoves his ass back against the slope of Schneider’s hips, trapping his cock between them. Schneider bites his lip. He watches as he begins to grind against him—Paul eagerly pushes back against it. They begin to rock together, breathing heavily with a noisy shift of the covers and the slight creaking of the bed, until Paul moans and demands impatiently, “Put it in me, for fuck’s sake!”

“You will,” Schneider says lowly, continuing to rut against him with slow rolls of his hips. Paul grunts and pauses, panting, until he says breathlessly amongst their mindless humping, “Unh, what?”

“You will put it in. Come on. Go ahead,” Schneider insists, squeezing his hands around his lower back. Paul sluggishly props up on an elbow and looks back at him with a red cheeks and confused eyes. Then he glances down towards where they’re connected—he seems to understand. Schneider lifts his hips, his dripping cock propped against his ass. Paul reaches back between them to tightly grip his cock. Schneider watches silently, jaw clenched and eyes heated, as his boyfriend sweeps the head down between his asscheeks, pulling back slightly to draw back his foreskin.

“Push in,” Paul says softly, keeping his firm grip around his shaft, waiting, until Schneider begins to slowly arch his hips in. His cock easily slips inside. Paul moans, Schneider grunts. Paul continues holding his cock in place, fingers tight and slick, until Schneider is in entirely—then he strokes his hand up over his abs, lustful gray eyes trained up on Schneider’s pleasured expression.

“Fuck me,” Paul murmurs, studying his face intently, “I better be limping after this.”

“Are you trying to make me laugh?” Schneider sputters, the mood momentarily breaking. Paul pauses, and then grins.

“Typically, yes. But, no, I’m trying to get you to fuck me, if that wasn’t obvious.”

“It wasn’t,” Schneider remarks, smiling down at him with fond eyes. Then he readjusts his legs against Paul’s, his hands around his back, and begins to rock his hips down against him. Paul’s grin softens, his eyes widening, trained up on Schneider’s face. Planting his hands on the bed, Schneider leans in with an angling of his head to kiss him. Paul immediately brings his hand up from Schneider’s chest to curl it around the back of his head, clutching him closely as he returns the kiss with enthusiastic purses of his lips and a pleased hum.

Paul mashes his mouth against Schneider’s with blatant lust, hungrily trying to consume him as much as possible. Schneider bites his bottom lip between his teeth, prompting an aroused groan from the smaller man. Then Schneider withdraws, searches in his eyes for a moment, and then kisses him on the corner of the mouth before he leans back again. Paul looks up at him with a smile and a subtle affection in his eyes before Schneider plants both hands on his shoulder blades and shoves him down into the pillows. Paul huffs a laugh and lets him.

Keeping him pinned, Schneider increases the force of his thrusting; his hips smack against Paul’s ass with such volume it’s bordering on embarrassing, simply because Schneider is paranoid of others hearing. Paul is moaning aloud, too, muffled partially into the pillow. It’s hot, and has heat coursing throughout Schneider’s body, but in the back of his mind, he can’t help but worry one of the others will come knocking.

He’s distracted from his concern when Paul hooks his legs over his calves, attempts to pull him closer. Schneider feels the muscle in his shoulder blades shift under his hands when he tenses up, his body curling in. Schneider is overcome with the desire to hold him. He leans in to place his elbows on the bed, pressing his chest along his back. He curls his arms underneath Paul to wrap them around him, hands sliding up over his chest and clavicle to curl one around his throat. He feels his moans vibrate against his fingers.

“Yes, oh, yes,” Paul pants into the pillow, melting in his arms, “Hold me, Christoph.”

Schneider’s heart leaps. He watches Paul with wider eyes and a warm face. It’s not often Paul says such things, things that has an arrow going straight through his heart. Paul then reaches back to grab onto his ass, digging his nails in. It turns Schneider on, has him sucking in a breath between his teeth. Paul peeks back at him with a weakened eye, his brow furrowed. He then drags his knee further up over the bed, opening his legs further which makes the thrusts harder and deeper. Schneider squeezes his arms around him, holding him tightly as he continues pumping his hips against him—Paul whines and grits his teeth, eyes closing. Schneider watches him, breathing heavily with lidded eyes.

“You’re so fucking deep,” Paul growls, his face alternating between pained and pleasured, “It feels so good.”

Silently, Schneider leans in to rest his forehead against the back of Paul’s head, flustered by his dirty talk. He bucks into him again and again, driving harder and harder into his body with every sharp thrust, until the bed is creaking and Paul is groaning aloud. He turns his face into the pillow to hide his expression, his moaning becoming muffled.

Thighs burning, Schneider slows to a stop, and just rests on top of him, bearing his weight upon him. Paul lets out a weak noise from underneath him, slides his hand down from Schneider’s ass to rest lightly on his thigh.

Schneider kisses him on the freckled shoulder. He kisses him on the back of the head, the temple, the ear, and then noses behind it. Paul shivers, hums softly. Schneider begins to rock his hips against him, slow and long at first. Paul moans weakly. He digs his nails into his thigh, slurs with pleasure, “That feels so good. Keep doing that.”

Happy to, Schneider maintains the slow, deep rolling of his hips that has Paul’s lower half pressing firmly into the bed with each one. Paul is tensing and shuddering in his arms. Schneider rests his forehead against his shoulder, continues holding him tightly as he fucks him gently with gradual back and forths of his hips. Paul begins to push his ass back into it, and then brings his hand down from Schneider’s side to shove it underneath his raised hips. Schneider feels his arm begin to move—he’s touching himself.

“Fuck me,” Paul gasps, “I’m going to come. Fuck me.”

Unwrapping his arms from around him, Schneider plants his hands against the bed, raises himself up for the leverage to begin thrusting against him with jarring snaps of his hips. The force has the bed creaking again—as well as evoking a shout of pleasure from Paul. He gasps and moans, his body shaking uncontrollably.

With sweat traversing down along the swell of muscle in his back, Schneider continues pounding him into the bed, his hands squeezing fistfuls of the covers. Pleasure builds and builds, boiling and bubbling in his belly, burning like a fire under his skin. He can barely breathe, his lungs clenching from the lack of breath and the orgasm that consumes him like a roaring flame. The sound of his hips crashing against Paul’s ass is boisterous and far from subtle. Schneider groans openly, his eyes fluttering shut, his teeth locking.

“Coming—” he grunts lowly, “I’m coming.”

“Yes!” Paul cries, back curling and head ducking into the pillow, his red hair a mess, “Me too—fuck!”

The punch of euphoria that utterly swallows Schneider whole has him bucking his hips against Paul a dozen more times, wildly, uncontrollably, taken over by the disorienting pleasure. It earns choked moans from the other man. Snapping his hips twice more against Paul, Schneider groans as he shoots his load into him, his entire body rippling with tension. Paul gasps and whimpers his name.

Then Schneider stills against him, his chest heaving and skin dripping with sweat. Cracking his eyes open, he realizes his vision is faint, distorted slightly from how fucking hard he just came. He blinks a few times, waiting for it to pass. Then, panting heavily, he reaches out with both hands to stroke them over Paul’s warm back—Paul makes a weak noise. Schneider pulls out slowly, sitting back on his calves to watch himself do so. He reaches down to squeeze Paul’s sweaty thighs in his hands. With his thumbs, he spreads his ass open to see his hole glistening with his cum and lube.

Schneider shifts back on the bed, straddling one of Paul’s legs. Without hesitation, he leans in to lick it up with a drag of his tongue. Paul jolts, hips jerking forward into the bed. He rises up onto an elbow, turns to look at him with wide eyes and deeply flushed cheeks. Schneider meets his gaze boldly as he pushes his tongue into him—he’s so hot and slick around him. Paul’s shocked face twists from the pain/pleasure of it—he’s sore and extremely sensitive. Schneider curls his tongue into him a few more times, eyes closing, gaining a weak whine from Paul. He then leans back to admire his reddened, fucked asshole, licked clean. He strokes his thumb across it and then moves off of him to lay beside him with a creaking and shift of the bed.

“Oh, God,” Paul breathes, laughing, and then practically collapses into Schneider’s arms. Schneider tugs him closer, wraps his arms around him tightly, tangles their legs together. Paul melts on top of him, buries his face into his neck, his wild ruby hair tickling his jaw.

“I love you,” Paul sighs, gently rakes his nails down Schneider’s sides, “And I love it when we fuck.”

That has Schneider laughing.

“Now you are trying to make me laugh.”

“Yes,” Paul muses, a smile in his voice. Schneider squeezes his arms around him and noses at his red locks. He speaks softly, almost reluctantly, with his eyes lidded and trained down on Paul’s back.

“I… I love you, too. But we should get up and join the others at the diner. We’re late.”

“Ugh. I want to just lay here and cuddle, though.”

“Too bad.”

As if to agree with him, Schneider’s phone begins to ring.

“Nooo,” Paul protests as the other man begins to get up, slipping out from underneath him. Schneider bats him off with a hand as he crawls away, rising from the bed to approach his duffel bag on the hotel room table. Paul sits up, watches with a tired frown while raking a hand through his wild hair. Schneider digs out his phone, answers it, and brings it to his ear. Clearing his throat, he speaks calmly, stating with assuredness, “We’ll be there. Sorry. I fell asleep as well and lost track of time.”

“Oh, we’ve been back for a while,” Richard speaks up casually, “For maybe twenty minutes. You guys didn’t show up for an hour, so we came back, concerned. Turns out you were just fucking. Couldn’t help but overhear.”

“I—Oh, God.”

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


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